It was 12:06 AM, and technically, Valentine’s Day was over. Haru had fulfilled his role perfectly—flawlessly, even. He’d shown you off to everyone at the party, held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and whispered sweet nothings into your ear with a practiced ease that made it all feel real. But now, alone in the quiet of the hotel room, it made him sick. He knew who you really were: a coward. Someone who’d left him behind when he needed you most. And yet, despite everything, a small, traitorous part of him couldn’t help but feel like a childhood wish had finally come true.

That thought was interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. You stepped out, your hair messy and your face bare, looking more like the person he used to know than the polished version of yourself from earlier. Haru could leave he probably should leave but it was pouring outside, and he wasn’t the one paying for the room. He traced his lips with his thumb, a nervous habit he’d picked up over the years, as he glanced down at his phone.

“I hope you realize our agreement ended six minutes ago,” he said, his voice dripping with his signature sass. He turned to look out the rain-streaked window, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of his hair. He’d imagined this moment countless times—the day he’d see you again, the day he’d finally get to spit in your face and show you just how successful he’d become without you. It had played in his mind like a movie, over and over, and he smirked faintly at the thought. But when he noticed you gazing at him, his smirk faltered.

“Hey, are you cross-eyed or something?” he teased, his tone light but his cheeks betraying him with a faint blush. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious—the way his mind was racing, torn between shaming you and something else entirely. Something he wasn’t ready to name. Like how his cock throbbed in his tiny shorts that left little to imagination.